On the other side, inside the main hall of Saint Elliott Cathedral.
Archbishop Lucien watched as Allen and Marianne’s carriage departed.
His deep gaze then shifted to Amelia, who was still immersed in the excitement of “bearing a sacred mission,” murmuring prayers toward the door, “May the Lord protect Marianne safely.”
He sighed silently. This child’s thoughts were still too pure and transparent.
Two years ago, during an inspection of a remote monastery famed for its austerity, he had seen twelve-year-old Amelia.
The pure devotion and wholehearted zeal for faith shining in her sapphire eyes had moved him.
She was intelligent, possessed an exceptional memory—a rare promising seed.
Her only flaw was that she was like a blank sheet of paper, completely unaware of the world’s complexities and dangers, far too trusting of others.
Marianne Duran, Allen de Laval’s personal maid.
A girl who had clawed her way up from the bottom, willing to sacrifice everything for her family, with a mind sharpened by hardship and survival instincts.
Her cunning and wisdom for survival were incomparable to Amelia, a sheltered flower nurtured carefully by the monks.
Amelia’s so-called “making friends” had likely been nothing more than a part of Marianne’s schemes and guidance from start to finish.
Such careless friendships, Amelia. When will you learn to see through lies and discern human hearts?
However…
A fleeting, inscrutable meaning flashed in Archbishop Lucien’s eyes.
Perhaps Amelia needed to personally experience some setbacks to truly grow. Moreover, she seemed to hold an extremely profound prejudice and… some kind of fantasy-based hostility toward Allen de Laval?
“Amelia,” the Archbishop’s voice was unusually gentle.
“Eh?!” Amelia jumped, startled, fearing she had done something wrong.
She timidly turned her head. “Teacher, do you have any instructions?”
“Don’t be nervous.” Lucien gave a meaningful smile. “I just want to ask you—in your mind, what should the God’s Messenger prophesied by the Holy Scripture, the one who will lead us to salvation, look like?”
Amelia paused, quickly recalling those radiant images in the Saints Chronicle, then hesitantly replied, “He… should be incredibly holy, resolute, brave, radiating undeniable light and majesty, right?”
The Archbishop’s gaze seemed to pierce through the cathedral’s thick walls, resting on a secret place known only to the highest echelons of the Church, heavily guarded.
There lay the hope and salvation concerning humanity’s ultimate fate.
“Then,” he shifted tone, lowering his voice slightly with a hint of guidance, “What about those ‘evil minions’ who infiltrate the masses, waiting for opportunities to obstruct salvation? How would you describe them?”
The question instantly ignited Amelia’s “rich” imagination!
She excitedly described: insidious, sly, masters of disguise, hiding inner darkness beneath a glamorous exterior, corrupting hearts, lurking among the noble class…
The more she spoke, the more vivid and involved she became. The final image she painted was almost a perfect overlap with Allen de Laval!
At the end, Amelia realized her slip, hurriedly lowering her head, stammering like a child caught doing wrong, “That… teacher… I didn’t mean to…”
To her surprise, no scolding came.
Archbishop Lucien merely reached out and gently patted her head. “Go, child. Use your eyes to observe, use your heart to seek the answers you want. Soon, you will have many opportunities to interact with Allen de Laval.”
Amelia suddenly lifted her head, her sapphire eyes instantly ignited by immense emotion and a burning sense of mission!
The teacher was not senile! He had not been deceived! Facing Allen de Laval’s terrifying dark power, he was enduring, plotting!
He chose to contend with him himself, entrusting the task of uncovering the truth and exposing evil to her!
“Yes! Teacher! I will never disappoint you!” Amelia’s spirit surged, her voice loud and resolute.
“Oh, by the way,” the Archbishop added as if casually, “those early Church history documents in my study haven’t been organized yet.”
“Understood, teacher! I’m on it!”
Fueled like she’d had a shot of adrenaline, Amelia dashed away in a flurry, leaving behind any usual complaints about such tedious tasks.
Watching the eager yet obviously misguided student’s retreating figure, Archbishop Lucien shook his head helplessly.
This child will probably be at the mercy of that little fox Allen de Laval for a long time to come.
Once Amelia’s figure disappeared down the corridor, the warmth in Lucien’s expression faded quickly.
He nodded slightly toward the shadows in the empty main hall.
Ripples blended into the shadows as a figure clad entirely in a pure black hooded robe materialized silently, his presence almost indistinguishable from the surroundings, as if carved out from darkness itself.
This was the “Black Sanctuary,” the Archbishop’s special forces. Each member bore an inherited codename from ancient archives: the Dark Templars.
They were blades hidden beneath light and shadow, the ultimate executioners feared by heretics!
“Allen de Laval,” Lucien’s voice regained the coldness befitting a former Grand Inquisitor, “what’s your assessment?”
The black-robed man’s voice was low and even, like cold metal scraping: “Our instruments detected no contamination on him. He is purely human.”
“That is precisely the problem.” Lucien’s gaze sharpened like an eagle’s. “We’ve checked all his past records; he’s never had any real contact with the Church’s inner core. How could someone who’s never come into contact with the source of Taboo Knowledge know about those secrets long buried by time, knowledge that does not belong to this era?”
“There is no ‘contamination’ on him, ruling out the possibility of acquiring knowledge from the Star Listener.” The black-robed man stated the facts, then proposed a chilling suspicion. “Could you mean… suspect him?”
Lucien did not directly confirm, only that his eyes deepened with unfathomable depth: “Yes. Eliminating all impossibilities leaves only that one possibility, however incredible… perhaps it truly points to the only source—The Gift of the Lord.”
“You insist on activating the Nirvana Project. Seems it was the right choice. However… the latest proposal for the plan has once again been delayed by the Curia.”
A flicker of fatigue and mockery crossed Lucien’s eyes. “A thousand years ago, we were perhaps merely scholars and scientists focused on knowledge preservation. But today’s Curia is a true religious organization. The Nirvana Project overturns more than just secular ethics… it is a burden humanity cannot yet bear. Others’ hesitation is understandable.”
“History has proven that Saint Leon’s path—uniting humanity through firm faith to resist Doomsday—is the right one. Our faith is the last and strongest line of defense against ‘them.’”
“They may still harbor a flicker of hope, believing ‘The Lord’ will perform miracles at the final hour, redeeming humanity as before.”
“However…” Lucien’s tone suddenly turned icy, “can we truly entrust the survival of all civilization to a ‘miracle’ that may come—or may never come?”
“The only thing I never expected was that in the final vote, the Heretic Inquisition Squad would unanimously oppose.”
“Sir, they remain confident they can handle the crisis with current power; the situation is far from needing to activate the Nirvana Project.” The black-robed man reported.
“The Empire’s Church gave them this confidence, right?” Lucien’s words struck to the heart.
The black-robed man nodded. “According to our surveillance, the Empire’s Chief Grand Inquisitor has secretly entered the capital and made contact with the radical faction within the Heretic Inquisition Squad.”
Lucien sneered coldly. “The Heretic Inquisition Squad’s headquarters was originally established within the Empire. Though now the Kingdom and Empire’s Church have parted ways, the internal entanglements of the Inquisition system—does this former Grand Tutor not understand?”
“Sir, shall we take countermeasures?” the black-robed man cautiously asked.
“Not yet.” The Archbishop waved his hand. “The Church cannot endure another large-scale internal split. They have their own ideas and ambitions; I know them well. The closer humanity edges to its end, the greater certain people’s ambitions and risks become.”
“The crux is that neither the Heretic Inquisition Squad nor the Empire’s Church truly knows the full scope or final phase of the Nirvana Project.”
Lucien sounded both self-mocking and confident: “They still don’t realize that the moment Allen de Laval ‘reborn,’ the Nirvana Project quietly started without anyone knowing!”
“Then, sir, regarding Judge Victor Solen’s secret contact and cooperation with Allen de Laval, should we intervene?”
Lucien pondered briefly and shook his head. “Victor was raised by my hand; I know his character and ambition well. Leave it to them. The future ultimately belongs to the young. Perhaps their clash will bring some unexpected changes.”
The black-robed man said no more, deeply aware that this old man’s plans were far-reaching, and that everyone might already be pieces on his chessboard.
“Sir, one last report. We have detected a significant increase in recent Star Listener activity, with abnormal energy readings.”
“What is he planning?” Lucien’s brow furrowed tightly.
“Unknown purpose. But all signs point to one conclusion—his active cycle accelerates in sync with the Doomsday Clock. We suspect his actions are closely related to the final end.”
After a long silence, Lucien let out a barely audible sigh, as if speaking to a distant shadow: “For humanity’s survival, we each chose entirely different paths. In the end, who is right or wrong can only be judged by those who live.”
But his eyes then sharpened, ice-cold: “However, no matter what, he has long since betrayed humanity. He is undeniably our enemy! If he dares show himself, we must annihilate him at all costs! Prepare the deployment—I want to see what ‘great play’ will unfold on this final stage!”
“As you command.”
The black-robed man bowed, his figure melting into the shadows like ink in water, vanishing silently as if never existing.
The grand hall returned to silence, save for the faint hum of the Star Map turning.
Archbishop Lucien stood alone before the altar, gazing up at the simplified Wheat Ear Star Radiance Emblem outlined in pure white light.
The cold glow illuminated his dignified yet weary face, shrouded in an inescapable weighty gloom.
“Merciful Lord…” he whispered, his voice especially faint in the vast hall, “The appearance of Allen de Laval… is it Your final test… or… a revelation that has come too late?”
His gaze finally fixed on the emblem’s center—the cogwheel, a symbol at odds with the overall sacred style, cold and industrial.
Lucien’s fingertips unconsciously brushed the exquisite Star Radiance embroidery on his robe, his voice low like a sigh from the abyss, yet filled with a resolve to burn bridges and turn the tides:
“If this truly is Your revelation… then… the rusty gears of this long-stagnant age… it’s time to set them turning once more.”